


All is Fair

by canadianhannah



Series: Tales to Fight the Quarantine Blues [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blood, Blowjobs, Frerard, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, NSFW, Non-Explicit Sex, PDA, Pointed and intentional not referencing the existence of Bob Bryar, Porn Referenced, Prank Wars, Pro Rev Kiss, Projekt Revolution, Public Kissing, Sexual Teasing, Sexual Tension, Tour Bus, Touring, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadianhannah/pseuds/canadianhannah
Summary: What happened when you kissed Frank on Saturday?Magic. Fireworks. I was just getting even with him.I don't think we wanna know what he did to you...You don't. You don't.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Series: Tales to Fight the Quarantine Blues [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673188
Comments: 4
Kudos: 119





	All is Fair

Gerard and Mikey had always pranked each other. It began during summer vacations when they were kids, their father working, their mother too busy to take them out to play. Gerard, being the dedicated older brother he was, would make up games to keep Mikey occupied – but none worked quite as well as the prank wars.

They always started small; Gerard would put salt in Mikey’s water at dinner, Mikey would put shaving foam on Gerard’s hand while he slept and then tickle his nose. From there, naturally, it grew, until inevitably one of them would have to claim defeat, lest the pair go on to kill one another.   
Initially, they kept their pranking shenanigans away from tour – but they couldn’t help it. Long road trips were boring, even in a decked-out bus. It was only a matter of time before Gerard tasted the familiar tang of dish soap in his coffee – and he knew it was on.

It had only taken about a week before Ray noticed something was wrong. The brothers never looked each other in the eye, and there was a general air of _tension._ He’d have thought they were arguing, if they hadn’t spent so much time giggling and grinning to themselves. It was only when Mikey charged out of his bunk one morning, one eyebrow shaved completely off, that he finally caved.

“What is _this_. What’s happening?” Ray asked, voice weary as he shifted his gaze between the fuming little brother, and Gerard cackling on the sofa.

“Prank war,” Gerard managed to gasp between chortles – new floods of laughter breaking through him each time he glanced at Mikey. Ray raised his eyebrows, a small smirk playing across his lips.

“Room for another?”

The brothers had agreed to let Ray take part in the war on one condition only – _do not tell Frank._

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to spend time with Frank, nor did they like hiding things from him – but inviting Frank to a prank war was like inviting a fox to a rabbit party. The guitarist had a wonderful knack for always, consistently, taking things too far. It was an endearing trait – but not one that was suitable for this kind of game. Ray solemnly took an oath that he would not speak a single word of it to Frank – and the game began, for the first time with their third player.

It only took two weeks before Frank found out.

***

Ray walked into the bus, snickering to himself. He knew the Way brothers were out together for dinner (something they did weekly, citing that it was important to maintain their brotherly bond on tour so they didn’t kill each other). That being the case, Ray took the opportunity to head to the drug store, where he’d picked up some of that gel people put on their nails to stop them from biting them. It was almost _too_ good of an opportunity – having something in his grasp that was made solely for the purpose of tasting terrible. He was sneaking burglar-style to the bathroom, mind focused on the brothers’ toothbrushes so hard, he didn’t notice Frank perched on the sofa.

“Hey!” the younger man called, making Ray jump so violently, he almost lost his grip on the paper shopping bag in his hand

“Shit – Frank! You can’t just sneak up on people-“ Ray muttered, shaking his head. Frank furrowed his brows, sitting forward.

“You’re the one who-“ he glanced at the bag, “either that’s lube and you’re about to give self-sodomy a try, or there’s another reason why you’re so jumpy. What’s up?” he asked, tilting his head. Ray laughed shakily, fighting the urge to hide the bag behind his back like a child. He paused, mulling the situation over in his mind – not telling Frank about the prank war was one thing, but outright lying was another. He knew the Ways had specifically asked him to keep it quiet, but Frank would be hurt if he knew they were lying to him, for _any_ reason.

“Would you believe me if I told you it was lube?” Ray asked, voice squeaking.   
Frank’s incredulous look was all the answer Ray needed.

**

“There are rules,” Gerard said, voice grave. Frank sat on the sofa in front of him, hands clasped on his knees. Ray had told him everything, and Frank had, immediately, pounced on the brothers when they came home, demanding to be included.

“Did Ray have to be initiated like this?” Frank asked, arching an eyebrow. Gerard shook his head.

“No. Because Ray isn’t a fuckin’ menace.” He smirked a little as he said it, shooting Frank a downwards glance that made the guitarst’s heart squeeze. Frank swallowed, forcing himself to maintain eye contact despite the flush in his cheeks. Gerard noticed, his smirk deepening, but he was just about merciful enough not to mention it.

“Granted,” Frank mumbled, voice soft, “what are the rules?”

“Nothing that includes anyone else. You can’t get the crew or anyone other than the four of us involved in the pranks. Just not worth it. Nothing that will cause long term damage – no head shaving, no breaking bones, no nothing. And finally – don’t dish out what you can’t choke on.” Gerard stared directly into Frank’s eyes as he finished speaking. Frank had the odd feeling that _this_ was one of the ways he was being pranked – there was no way Gerard wasn’t making this torturous on purpose.

“Okay, yeah. No involving outsiders, no shaving your head, no being a shit if I can’t take it. Is that all?” he asked, glance shooting over Gerard’s shoulder, just for something else to look at. Gerard shrugged.

“Nope, all good. Watch your back, Frankie,” Gerard purred. The sway in his hips as he sauntered away from him was, of course, exaggerated on purpose – and Frank took the bait, pressing his lips together as he watched his friend leave the room.

***

The game changed after Frank joined it. At first he slotted in nicely, trying to make sure his pranks weren’t _too_ extreme, since he knew the other three were keeping a very watchful eye on him. More often than not, Frank would have every pair of his boxers frozen, and would retaliate with switching all Gerard’s eyeliner pencils out for crayons, or slightly de-tuning Mikey’s bass. He was determined not to take it too far – but when Gerard pushed things to the next level, Frank had no choice but to follow suit.

Frank returned to his bunk after practice, joints weak, fingers aching. He’d begun to bleed whenever he played these days – which wasn’t a _bad_ thing, but it did mean his fingertips stung most of the time. He was about to fall into his bunk, when a shape caught his eye – something pushing the blanket up slightly, creating a bump. He glanced around him and, seeing no one, tugged the comforter down, revealing a large, purple dildo, resting atop a porn magazine.   
A _gay_ porn magazine. Frank felt blood rush to his cheeks, forcing laughter out through his lips, despite there not being anyone to hear it. The prank reeked of Mikey – Ray wouldn’t do something that presumptive and Gerard…  
Frank shivered. He didn’t want to even _consider_ that the prank had been Gerard’s doing. The thought of the older man buying a dildo and porn for Frank – even as a joke – was enough to make the blood rush through his veins so quickly, it was almost palpable. He forced out another weak laugh, before sliding the toys and magazine under his bunk, and heading back out to the main communal area of the bus.

Gerard was unwinding his scarf, talking over his shoulder to Mikey, who followed in close behind. The faint scent of tobacco wound itself around his clothes and hair, wafting into the room with each movement he made. Every time he spoke with his hands, Frank could practically see the faint, coffee-coloured spores rolling off his skin.

“…and I think it’s gonna work. I mean the science of it is shaky, but-“

“Gee-,” Mikey said, stepping into the bus, “it’s a good idea. I don’t need to tell you that. You’re a good writer, just go for it.”

Gerard nodded, smiling at Frank as he passed him. Despite having decided the prank was Mikey’s doing, Frank watched Gerard carefully for any inclination of guilt – not finding any, however, didn’t cause him to relax at all.

Mikey continued walking towards the bunks, talking to Gerard as he did – he was reassuring him about one thing or another, as Mikey was wont to do. Gerard was only half-listening, despite appearing to have been the one to initiate the conversation. He meandered towards the bunks – taking his time, but definitively heading that way.   
Frank thought he was going to just let Gerard pass, until he heard himself speak:

“Hey, Gee. I didn’t realise we were fucking with each other’s bunks,” he said, voice bursting out of him like a shot fired into the air, flying pointedly until it hit its mark, right between Gerard’s ears.   
Gerard faltered – stopping with his back to Frank; he was grinning to himself, knowing that Frank couldn’t see him, but he wouldn’t have cared if he could. The dildo and magazines had been as much a hint as they were a prank – he wasn’t trying to be subtle, so there was no loss in Frank calling him out on it.

“Mmmm? You didn’t like your surprise?” Gerard asked innocently, popping one hip out as he shifted his weight. Frank bit back hysterical laughter. The trembling in his chest caused his words to fall out in a shaky vibrato.

“I mean, I guess I should’ve known you’d do something like that – I knew what I was getting in for when I joined the prank war,” he laughed, the noise uncertain, like a verbal bridge crumbling underfoot as Frank tip-toed from what he thought he knew, to whatever was tumbling through Gerard’s mind.

After six thuds of Frank’s heart against his ribs, Gerard half-turned, smirking over his shoulder. His eyes were hooded, giving him the look of an old Hollywood starlet, like Bette Davis hiding a secret in the wicked flick of her lips.

“It wasn’t a prank, Frankie. You knew that,” he purred.

Gerard swept out of the room so quickly, Frank didn’t have time to respond; which was convenient, because he couldn’t have thought of anything to retort if his life depended on it.

**

There were two games occurring at the same time, and nobody was making a secret of it. Gerard was still filling Mikey’s pillowcase with rocks, and adding glue to Ray’s hair gel, as per the usual games. But with Frank, he had become a little more creative.   
Gerard wasn’t stupid, nor was he oblivious. He knew as well as anyone that Frank was entranced by him, no matter how hard the guitarist attempted to hide it. As much as he tried not to encourage him too strongly, he had to admit – he was intrigued. Frank was pretty, and as their friendship had, over the last couple of years, transformed from flirty best-friendship to something a little more lustful, Gerard would be lying if he claimed to not enjoy eliciting sensual responses from Frank.

After the dildo and magazines trick, Frank had responded by leaving the same dildo on Gerard’s bunk – but this time, it was covered in lube. Frank hadn’t _actually_ used it, but it was his way of saying ‘game on’. That catalyst triggered, their game began full speed ahead.

Frank was beginning to run out of ideas, but he was determined not to admit defeat. So far, Gerard had fake-orgasmed in the bunk right above his head, meeting him only with a cheeky, knowing grin when Frank had leapt up to investigate. He’d walked through the bus wearing only sexy underwear and, most infuriatingly of all, he’d left the door to the shower area open, so when Frank walked to his bunk, he got a full frontal view of his best friend, naked and covered in soft, cloud-like suds of soap, curving over the soft edges of his body, running between his legs as he stood, eyes dark and full of intent as he watched Frank through the heavy shower smoke.   
Understandably, Frank was reaching the end of his tether. He just didn’t have it in him to do anything that would _surprise_ Gerard. It wasn’t a lack of creativity, but rather a lack of confidence. He could try to be risky and sultry – but he couldn’t guarantee that Gerard would find it anything except cute, and perhaps a little desperate.   
Frank, though, finally had a plan. It was risky, but if executed correctly, would leave Gerard in a position where he would _have_ to admit defeat.   
To that end, Frank enlisted the help of the only person other than Gerard who could give him council in this situation.

“Alright. Shoot,” Mikey said, dropping on the sofa beside Frank, gesturing for him to proceed. Frank had shoo-ed Gerard and Ray out of the bus, muttering something about needing more oat milk, just so he could have Mikey to himself for a few moments.   
Frank was practically vibrating, grinning at Mikey as he wriggled on the sofa.

“Okay. I just… I have a question about the rules of the war,” Frank said, eyes sparkling in the fading sunlight as it pushed through the plastic blinds. The golden rays refracted off each, individual speckle of dust, making Frank’s already elated face appear to be surrounded by stars.

Mikey watched him, brows furrowed.

“Okay… I mean they’re clear. No permanent damage, no doling out shit you can’t take, and nothing that involves anyone outside of the four of us.”

“That’s what I need clarification on. That last one,” Frank was all but twitching with excitement, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he spoke again, “if I were to say… fuck with Gerard, onstage. Would that count as involving other people?” he asked.

Mikey was quiet as he mulled it over. He assumed, but didn’t want to ask, that Frank was not referring to performing any actual sexual acts with Gerard onstage; considering he was too shy to do it in private, even with Gerard throwing himself at him the way he was.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked, though he somewhat wished he didn’t have to. Frank let out a breath.

“Honestly? I don’t know for sure. But if I’m onstage, and I see an opportunity… I think that would be a good moment to get back at him. He’d be totally off-guard, you know?”

Mikey was silent for another moment, before sighing, waving a hand as if to say ‘do what you want’.

“Just don’t do anything we can get arrested for, and don’t make me see my brother’s bare ass. Ever.”

Frank vowed that he wouldn’t do either, only just able to keep the excited tremor from his voice.

***

Despite having Mikey’s permission to shock Gerard onstage, Frank was finding it difficult to conjure enough courage to actually do it. He and Gerard were infamous for messing with each other onstage – both figuratively and literally – which meant he had to raise the bar that much higher. Grabbing his crotch or moaning into his ear mid-song wouldn’t cut it; he needed something so daring, Gerard wouldn’t see it coming at all.

“Alright, alright, I give up,” Gerard sighed, dropping his jeans to the floor. Ray had intentionally washed them on the highest heat, so Gerard was unable to get them much past his mid-thigh.

“War’s over, I lose. I don’t have enough pants to keep up with this,” he laughed, dropping them into the hamper. Frank sat upright, eyes wide.

“Hey- c’mon-“ he stammered, rising to his feet. He tried not to pay attention to the fact Gerard was in his boxers, training his eyes on his face as he spoke. Gerard raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise as he slid on his replacement jeans.

“What? You wanna keep playing? I thought you were gonna tap out when Mikey put that spider in your cereal,” Gerard snorted, wriggling his hips to tug the tight jean fabric up over his thighs. Frank shivered at the memory, shaking his head.

“I was but…if I didn’t tap out for that, then you shouldn’t for this. I’m sure you’ve got stuff planned, right?”

Frank’s voice was tight and nervous as he spoke, the smile he gave pale against his flushed cheeks. If Gerard looked closely, he might have seen desperation rolling off of him in waves.  
Luckily for Frank, Gerard was more preoccupied with slipping his jeans on. By the time Gerard glanced over his shoulder and shot him a grin, Frank had almost completely composed himself – save for a tell-tale blush at the end of his nose.

“You got something planned for me, Frankie?” he asked, all but batting his eyelashes. Frank swallowed before replying, a shaky grin sweeping across his mouth

“Maybe. If you tap out now, you’ll never know,” he shrugged, arching an eyebrow. He felt the coy smile cross his face, mirrored by Gerard’s moments later.

“Alright, Frank. I’m still in,” he said coolly. He walked past him, bumping his hip as he did, “make it worth my while, hm?”

Frank laughed softly as Gerard stepped into the kitchen, and only let it die in his throat when he heard the coffee maker whirr a moment later.   
If Frank wanted any chance of pushing Gerard over the edge, he had to work out what he was going to do, he had to make it good, and it had to be tonight.

**

From the moment he stepped onstage, Gerard felt like he was lit from the inside out. It was a sensation he couldn’t even begin to describe to other people – even those in the band with him. All his usual softness and reservation dissolved away as soon as the lights hit him, the coat of glimmering sweat that would, within fifteen minutes, cover his entire form, already beginning to effervesce any shyness, turning it into invisible glitter that brushed itself over his bones, making him shine.

Gerard knew he should probably be apologetic for the way he was onstage, but he couldn’t bring himself to be. In front of thousands of fans, in front of his own _brother_ , he couldn’t muster up enough shame to not thrash around the stage, humping his equipment, gasping breathy moans and promises into his microphone. It was almost as if he were possessed, pure energy flowing through him, punching magic out into the air. He’d never discussed it intimately with any of his bandmates, but he knew they must feel it too. One look at Ray grinning as he shredded, or Frank throwing himself into anything in his path, confirmed for Gerard that it wasn’t just him who felt it. Everything the band did together was nothing short of a manmade miracle.

Frank knew, somewhere, in the back of his mind, that he should be thinking of ways to psych Gerard out while he had the time – but with each roar of his guitar, the thought moved further from his mind. He was encompassed by his surroundings, by the pure heat he felt radiating off the lights, off his bandmates, off his own hands as they struck his strings.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t acutely, painfully aware of Gerard. If he was magnetic offstage, he was an absolute black hole while he was performing. His voice, its sultry purrs and sharp cries, shot through Frank like a lightning bolt, arching his back with the pure power of it. His best friend was a ball of heat and light, and it set Frank’s body alight, pleasure pulsing through him whenever he entered a 2 meter radius, pulling Frank, willingly, into his orbit.

Frank was so entranced by the heat, and the pressure, and the music, that he hardly noticed when he split his finger. One moment, he was playing with all the energy he could muster, and the next, his strings, his pickguard, and his fingers were drenched in his own blood. Frank laughed – he couldn’t feel the pain of it, not with all the adrenaline rushing through him, but the sight of it filled him with an almost sensual thrill, his stomach tightening. He glanced at Gerard from under his eyelashes, his breath coming hard. The singer looked so confident, so full of raw power – Frank knew he had to strike now.

Guitar still in hand, Frank sauntered over to Gerard, the way he had done a million times before. Usually, he would lick him, or press his crotch against him to get a few moments of relief from the heavy pulse that surged through him at every show. This time, though, he kept it simple. He brought his bleeding finger to Gerard’s cheek, and swiped it from cheekbone to jawline. He looked at the crimson as it rested upon ivory, framed by glittering flecks of sweat. His own blood, marking Gerard’s skin possessively, the action one that simply said ‘ _mine_ ’.

To Gerard’s credit, he didn’t falter. He shot Frank a dark, warning glare, but it was paled under the yellow-tinged lights that shone down on him, lost completely behind the words that continued to flow through his mouth. Frank would have thought that his antics hadn’t affected the singer at all – were it not for the gentle tremor in his voice, the shaking of his leg to the beat, and the fact that he didn’t even consider wiping the blood away.

Frank knew he was in for some revenge. He was the one who had convinced Gerard to continue the war, after all. The singer could feel the droplets of blood as they pressed against his cheek, feeling as if they were embedding into his skin. Frank could wave the action away as a joke – just part of the game – but Gerard knew different. Frank had wanted to claim him, in front of all of these people. The guitarist had anointed him with his blood, binding them together, leaving a mark that said ‘I’m not afraid of people knowing that I want you.”

Keeping composure was difficult, but not impossible. Frank’s stunt had been risky, and very distracting; Gerard knew he had every right to be angry, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to be. The only feeling that he could decipher enough to identify, was the faint pulse of pleasure that ran through his thighs, followed by a flood of adrenaline pushing it through his veins.

Gerard glanced over at Frank, looking directly at the guitarist, who had his head down, teeth caught gently on his bottom lip. His eyes were focused so hard on his guitar he could have bored a hole in the plastic, and his hair hung limply in his face, like a veil between him and Gerard. Gerard wondered, offhandedly, if it was shame that made Frank avoid his gaze, or a weak attempt at concealing his excitement. It didn’t matter – Gerard didn’t need to see him. He could practically taste what Frank wanted, felt it rolling off him in desperate waves.   
He smiled, his words coming out as a soft laugh – perhaps the best response was to give Frank exactly what he wanted.

It took two songs for Gerard to build up the courage he needed. It wasn’t Frank he was worried about – the man was giving off “yes, please,” like a powerful aura, almost dragging Gerard across the stage towards him. He was, however, a little nervous about his brother, and about how the fans would react; the latter had been accusing the pair of being in each other’s beds since day one.   
As a matter of fact, so had the former.

Still – Gerard’s pride is what eventually pushed him. He had a horrible case of the mid-concert sweats, his hair pushed back away from his face, moisture pooling just beneath his black collar, glistening at the base of his skull. He didn’t let himself think before he acted – he just let the force of the music shove him across the stage, heading straight for Frank like a bullet firing from a gun. He only slowed in momentum as he reached him.   
Frank felt his presence without needing to look up, felt Gerard encroach into his personal space; his heart reacted accordingly, racing in his chest, his fingers almost faltering on his strings. He took a step back – there was nothing on Earth that would make him stop playing, but he didn’t want Gerard being near him to threaten that. Already, sweat droplets were slicking up his fingers, making them nearly slide off the instrument entirely.   
Gerard was only near him for a moment, Frank’s thick, heady scent filling his nose, before he pulled back with a sharp snarl, walking back across the stage. Frank wasn’t going to make this _easy,_ so Gerard had to play the hard game.

The singer circled back, running a hand through his hair – both in frustration, and to keep it out of the way. He had one, final chance to get Frank back for what he’d done – he couldn’t let anything act as a barrier.   
A smirk graced Gerard’s lips as he walked back towards Frank – more direct this time, Frank’s chest acting as a magnet, drawing him close to him. As Gerard once again got close enough to smell Frank, to taste the heat radiating off him, he put his hand out, and grabbed his hair.   
His fingers fell naturally into the thick, sweat-slicked tresses that curled around his hand invitingly. It only took Frank a second to respond – a soft noise of confusion left his lips, barely audible as Gerard guided his head upwards. Their eyes met, but didn’t even have time to focus, before Gerard slammed his mouth against Frank’s, feeling the gentle slide of his lips against his friends’.

There was nothing on Earth that would make Frank stop playing. Except this. Except the slick, salt-tinged taste of Gerard, of his tongue swiping Frank’s bottom lip. There wasn’t even a question – Frank dropped the guitar and wound an arm around Gerard’s waist, holding him closer, for fear that the moment would disappear if he didn’t. Frank felt Gerard’s whole body against him, his warmth too-hot against Frank’s thin t-shirt, matting the fabric to his skin. The guitarist lost all sense of time or concept; he was deafened by the roaring of his blood in his ears, the steady pound of his heart driving out all the thoughts he wouldn’t have been able to fathom anyway. Everything was just _Gerard_.   
And then it wasn’t. And then Gerard was pulling back with a soft, breathy laugh – almost embarrassed sounding, if it weren’t so self-satisfied. Frank was unwilling, to say the least – his hand remained firm on Gerard’s hip, urging him closer, a desperate pant bubbling in his throat. Gerard laughed again, more pointedly this time, and placed his hand on Frank’s face, pushing him away.   
As soon as Frank realised the battle had been lost, he let himself be removed, and turned back to his guitar, picking up as soon as his hands stopped shaking long enough to form a chord.   
Gerard moved back to his position as if something earth-shatteringly significant hadn’t just happened – but Frank could spy the tiniest hint of a blush blooming beneath his sweat-slick cheeks, the single line of his own blood still marking it in proud crimson.

*

Mikey didn’t say anything, and neither did Frank. They were sat backstage, waiting for Gerard to peel himself out of his stage clothes and have a quick shower in his dressing room. Ray had already excused himself and headed out to the bus – a luxury Frank nor Mikey could afford.

Eventually, Gerard walked out, buttoning his coat up, and flashed a grin at the pair.

“Hey, thanks for waiting. Should we-

“Gerard what was that?” Frank asked, body tensing. He knew Gerard wasn’t going to make a big deal out of the kiss – it wasn’t his style; but Frank had, at least, expected _some_ recognition.   
Mikey blew out a tense breath, glancing up at his older brother.

“Not to agree with Frank – but I agree. What was that?”

Gerard replied with a laugh, tugging his messenger bag up a little over his shoulder.

“I was just getting even. It was _fun_. Just relax,” Gerard muttered, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. Mikey rolled his eyes, standing up – leaving Frank to scramble after him.

“We aren’t that kind of band, Gerard. People were finding it hard to focus on the music instead of you and Frank’s asses as it is – this isn’t helping,” Mikey muttered. Frank shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at Gerard with a soft expression. He didn’t want Gerard to be _too_ dissuaded from kissing him again, but Mikey had a point. Nobody was going to be writing blogs about how well-tuned Ray’s guitar had been – but he knew pictures of their kiss were probably already splashed over someone’s MySpace.   
Gerard laughed, cigarette hanging between his lips as he bumped the fire door with his hip, a swell of cool air spilling in as he did.

“Yeah? And what kind of band _are_ we, then?” he chuckled. He shot Frank a wink (laced with more than a hint of a seductive smirk) before turning and walking out the door, the faint click of a lighter subtly audible just before the door slammed shut.   
Mikey sighed, clapping Frank on the shoulder.

“I did my best. Sorry about him,” he mumbled, before following Gerard out the door.   
If Frank were a braver man, he’d have said something like ‘please, don’t be sorry’ – but he wasn’t brave at all. Kissing Gerard had sucked all the bravery out of his chest, leaving him disheveled and more than a little flustered. He took a moment to suck in a deep breath, before following his band outside.

Frank had assumed that Gerard would be in the bus – but the glare from his cigarette proved him wrong; instead, he was standing with his back against the brick wall, staring up at the sky as he sucked on his cigarette. Frank thought that he, perhaps, looked pensive – though he was probably projecting.

“You spend your whole day lookin’ at me, Frank. Don’t you have anything better to do?” Gerard said, raising his voice just loud enough that it reached him. Frank laughed softly, hiking his backpack up as he approached him.

“Apparently not. But then even if I did-,” he sidled up beside him, resting his hip against the wall, close enough that he could taste the tobacco as it wafted in gentle plumes of smoke from the cigarette, “I’m a little distracted.”

Gerard grinned, his smile nothing short of self-satisfied and dripping with a smugness that was almost tangible.

“Mm? Does that mean I win?” Gerard purred, turning to look at Frank. His eyes were visible in the darkness, shimmering with the embers that burned mere inches from his face. Frank closed his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. Now that the adrenaline and arousal had been given time to ebb away, he had one emotion that clung to him like black tar – rage.

“Gerard. Put the cigarette out,” Frank said firmly, his tone edging on dangerously precise. Gerard arched an eyebrow, pulling the stick from his lips ad dropping it unceremoniously to the floor.

“Sure, but wh-“

The moment the orange flicker of the cigarette was extinguished on the floor, Frank had Gerard shoved hard against the wall, snarling in his face. The faint scent of sweat was still present, clinging to his hair and his clothes, glistening between his fingers as he clutched Gerard’s shirt.

“Do you have any _idea_ of how humiliated I was? You- you can’t just-“

“You wanted it,” Gerard gasped, “you’ve been wanting it for years. Give it _up_ , Frank. You aren’t fooling anyone – you’re not fooling me.” Despite the aggression that swelled between them, their tones remained moderately calm – albeit accusatory. Frank paused, taking a moment to breathe in Gerard’s scent, to feel the race of his heart beneath his fists. He had Gerard _flustered._ That was a triumph worth savoring.

“Not like that. I didn’t – not in front of all those people,” Frank breathed. He stepped forward, knees knocking clumsily against Gerard’s. The older man softened, reaching up to brush Frank’s hair out of his face – an affectionate gesture, and one that told Frank that he hadn’t gone too far.

“Then show me; the game is over, the audience is gone. It’s just you and me and the stars, Frank. Why don’t you show me how you’d have wanted it?”

It was almost certainly too good to be true, but Frank didn’t _care_. He took Gerard’s words at their value, and leaned forwards. He could smell his breath, the cigarette tinged with his post-show strawberry throat candies he’d suck to cure his vocal fry. Warm air flowed from between Gerard’s parted lips, and Frank inhaled it, sucking it into his own lungs, using it as a rope to tug himself closer to the other man. Their lips brushed together, nervously at first, then curiously. By the time Frank finally pressed his mouth against Gerard’s, they were both trembling, both from the cold air that wrapped itself around them, and something else they couldn’t quite define.

Kissing Gerard in front of thousands of people, and kissing Gerard in an alleyway behind a venue, were experiences so different, that Frank felt as if this really was their first kiss. The stage persona was gone, the cocky grasp on his hair faded into gentle fingers stroking the back of his neck. Instead of slipping his tongue into his mouth, Gerard kissed him gently, their mouths opening gradually for each other, like the blooming of a rose. The kiss was less addled with adrenaline – and yet it still shot that same burst of pleasure through them, like twin electric currents meeting at a mutual source, and exploding into a fit of sparks.   
Frank was still holding Gerard hard against the wall, but the other man wasn’t fighting it. He curled his hand in his hair, tugging softly as he held him close, a moan rumbling through one of their mouths, and being swallowed by the other. And then back again.

It was Frank, unsurprisingly, who was left panting, mewling against Gerard’s lips. He arched his hips none-too-subtly, angling his crotch to rub insistently against Gerard’s leg. The other man laughed, eyes sparkling in the dim light as he looked at Frank with bemusement

“You- do you want to?” he whispered, dragging his thumb over Frank’s lip. Immediately, Frank drew the digit into his mouth, meeting his gaze with wide eyes, filled with wonder at his own luck.

“I want to,” Frank whispered, sucking gently at the tip of Gerard’s thumb. The singer laughed shakily, eyebrows furrowing as he watched Frank, a confused smile tugging his lips up.

“Here? It’s not-“

“It’s perfect. It’s just you and me. That’s what I want, Gee. I want you and me, and I want it here-“ Frank pressed his face into Gerard’s neck, inhaling his scent, “I want to be able to get back on that bus and pretend we’re just friends. I wanna pretend that kissing you doesn’t set me on fire. I don’t wanna do this somewhere I’m gonna have to hang around after,” Frank’s voice was firm and decided, but he kept his eyes averted, suddenly very interested in his shoelaces. Gerard braced a hand on Frank’s shoulder, giving him sympathetic gaze, unusual in its warmth.

“I get it,” he assured him softly. Frank met his gaze, his frown smoothing out into a hesitant smile. His fingers found Gerard’s belt loops and he tugged him forward, batting his eyelashes at him.

“I don’t know if we have time for the whole nine yards-

“We don’t,”

“So… how about-“

Frank took a breath before attaching his mouth back to Gerard’s collarbone. He sucked slowly, before gently sliding a hand into Gerard’s waistband.

The time between Frank shoving his hand into Gerard’s pants, and him actually curling his hand around him, seemed to last years. Gerard just stood, head pressed against the wall, panting eagerly as he fought the urge to slam his hips upwards. He let out a relieved, albeit shaky moan as soon as Frank began to stroke him.

“S-so is this what we’re doing? Handjobs in the alley behind the venue?” he smiled, groaning as he arched his back into Frank’s touch. Frank laughed softly, hand moving fluidly within Gerard’s pants, internally marveling at his friend’s size (a train of thought which, inevitably, became a slippery slope for much more opportunistic channels of thought).

“I mean, it’s what I’m doing. It can be what you’re doing too, if you want to,” Frank purred, nipping his jaw. Gerard sighed, baring his neck for him as he rolled his hips slowly up into his fist.

“T-thought you’d never ask. Yeah, I want that,” Gerard’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips, back arching as he leaned his weight against the wall. His hand lay flat against the brick, fingers scrabbling uselessly as his body twitched with pleasure. He groaned, fingers finding Frank’s hair again as he tugged him into another kiss – this one deep and dirty, filled with tongue and punctuated by Gerard’s gasping moans.

“Come here, come here, let me-“ he grabbed Frank by the belt loops with one hand and tugged him closer. He scrabbled to undo Frank’s jeans and, once he succeeded, he wasted no time in shoving his hand into his boxers, beginning to stroke him in time with Frank’s eager pace. Frank mewled with pleasure, pressing his forehead against Gerard’s, holding his gaze. Their breath came hot, mixing in the air in a puff of smoke. Gerard reached up, nails biting into Frank’s shoulder blade as he held him close, hips surging upwards to meet Frank’s thrusts.

“Shit. _Shit_ ,” Gerard groaned. Frank could taste the profanity on his lips, inhaled it like it was the elixir of life, held Gerard’s moans of pleasure deep within his lungs until he felt them winding around his ribs.

“You sound so good, Gee. I’ve wanted this for-

“I know baby, I know. C’mon-“ Gerard grunted. Frank knew it was nothing more than a tactic to shut him up, but he couldn’t help but shiver at the pet name.

Frank sped up the pace with his hand, grinning when Gerard moaned loudly, hips slamming upwards into Frank’s fist, face contorted in pure pleasure.

“Can’t last long, baby, can’t-“ Gerard hissed, “feels so good. You’re so good, Frankie-“

“Just wait til you see what I can do with my mouth,” Frank retorted, leaning forward to suck on Gerard’s earlobe. The singer swore under his breath, hips moving faster – Frank barely had to do anything , Gerard was controlling the pace, and Frank was more than happy to let it happen.

“God, yeah. I want your mouth on me. I wanna feel it-“

Frank wasn’t sure if Gerard was being serious, or if it was just the lust talking – but the one thing he _was_ certain of, was that he wasn’t going to waste an opportunity to get on his knees for Gerard.   
Without any sense of ceremony or consideration for his poor knees, Frank sunk to the floor in front of Gerard, immediately mouthing at his hips. Gerard gasped, eyes flickering either side of them – he relaxed when he realised they were alone.

“Holy shit, holy shit-“ he chanted, hand scrabbling uselessly at brick as he fought to keep in control. Frank grinned; a chill was seeping in through his jeans, leaving wet patches on the fabric, but Frank sat before Gerard like he was immune to the cold. Gerard stroked a hand through Frank’s hair, staring down at him wide-eyed, like he couldn’t quite decide what it was he wanted to do.   
Luckily, Frank made the decision for him. He leant up, pressing his face into the dip in Gerard’s crotch, taking a deep breath. Gerard smelled of sweat and the faint aroma of cheap soap, but to Frank it may as well have been freshly mown grass or a tray of home baked cookies.

“Frankie, I’m freezing-“ Gerard laughed, the sound disappearing in plumes of white, swirling past his red, cold-nipped nose. Frank sat back, stroking him slowly

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry-“ he mumbled. Frank was acutely aware that he was balancing on the edge of a precipice, staring down into the abyss that was the point of no return. A few sloppy kisses could be forgiven – fumbled handjobs with brick pressing hard against skin could be laughed away over a couple of drinks.   
This, though, was going to change everything. It was going to force them to admit the ‘something’ that had been brewing for years, that they’d always joked about over thinly-veiled messages of intent.   
Frank let his tongue slide out, tasting Gerard – just the tip, at first, and then bolder strokes. He heard his friend gasp above him – the sound fading into a content moan as Frank massaged his length with his tongue. Gerard groaned, hang tightening in his hair.

“Baby, please-“

The sound sent a shock through Frank so potent that he almost fell backwards. Gerard’s tone was full of desperate, raw _need_. His head was tilted back, throat exposed to the pale moon, shining dimly in the evening’s light, eyes wide open as he stared up at the stars.

“Oh God – Gerard, I’ll do whatever you want if you keep askin’ like that,” Frank laughed, sucking the tip into his mouth slowly. Gerard moaned, teeth clenching as a shiver of pleasure shot through him.

“Frank, Frankie, baby, I’m going crazy, can you-“ he cut himself off with a punched moan as Frank took him into his mouth properly, his mouth sinking down on him, wrapping him in tight heat. Gerard curled both hands into his friend’s hair, gasping for air as his hips twitched forwards. Frank let out a gentle chirp of pleasure, hands finding his hips as he began to move, slowly back and forth, trying to remember everything his highschool best friend had told him about watching his teeth, and moving his tongue.

In Gerard’s defense, he gave Frank several minutes to adjust. His thighs were physically shaking from the effort of not rocking his hips forward – but when Frank took most of him down without so much as a twitch of a gag, he began to guide his head, rolling his hips forward slowly.  
To his surprise, Frank didn’t complain. Instead, the younger man relaxed, leaning entirely into Gerard’s touch; he glanced up under his eyelashes, giving him a look that said “yes, show me”. Gerard let out a shaky laugh wrought with desire as he pushed his hips forward in short, desperate bursts, each movement forcing a shaking moan from his lips.

It didn’t take long before Gerard didn’t even need to guide Frank anymore – the younger man’s hands found Gerard’s ass, grabbing at it as he moved his head in time with Gerard’s thrusts. The singer’s moans were barely contained by the hand he shoved into his own mouth, his teeth leaving marks in the skin as he tried to swallow down the sounds that were bordering screams of delight.   
Gerard had meant to warn Frank – he took his hand away from his mouth as soon as he felt that familiar pulse in his stomach – but all that came out was a sharp cry as he finished, hand curling in Frank’s hair.

The man on his knees was shocked, but not displeased to have his mouth filled. He closed his eyes, still gently massaging him with his tongue until the final twitch of pleasure against his lips. Gerard went limp, legs shaking as he fell back against the wall, skin slick with sweat as if he’d never showered after the show at all.

Frank swallowed, sat back on his knees, and gazed up at Gerard with a curious glance.

“S-so that’s our friendship fucked up,” Gerard grinned, wiping the back of his hand over his face. Frank laughed, taking the hand Gerard extended and rising to his feet.

“Yeah? That good? My blowjob skills are friendship-destroying good?” he teased, hands immediately fluttering to Gerard’s hips, rubbing the exposed skin slowly. Gerard nodded, leaning forward to kiss him, not seeming to care about the taste of himself stained onto Frank’s lips.

“Oh yeah. We’re never coming back from this one,” he teased. Gerard pressed another deep, lingering kiss upon Frank’s lips, before pulling back, gazing at him inquisitively.

“Tell me what you want.”

“What I want is a promise that you’ll fuck me when we get back to the bus,” Frank whispered. He wouldn’t have been so bold five minutes previously, but the high he was riding from pleasing Gerard filled him with the feeling that there was nothing on earth he couldn’t do – including shamelessly proposition his best friend.

Gerard laughed, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I can’t promise that. But I can promise this – next time we get a chance to do this, we’re gonna do this.”

Frank conceded, too riled up with desire to argue technicalities with Gerard.

“Then for now – just touch me. I want to feel you touch me, Gee.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth, Gerard spun the pair around, so Frank was pressed face-first against the brick wall, Gerard behind him, hands sliding his pants and underwear down. The older man pushed his face into Frank’s neck, gently sucking his skin into his mouth as his hand curled around Frank, stroking him slowly. Frank mewled softly, head hanging down as he rocked his hips forward, bracing one hand on the wall above his head. He stared at Gerard’s hand, moving quicker, more adeptly along his length, coaxing an orgasm out of him.

“Y-you’re good at that. H-handjobs. You’re good at them,” Frank managed to spit between his chattering teeth. Gerard grinned, sucking slowly on his earlobe.

“Practice, baby,” he purred. His hand moved faster, the pleasure bordering ‘too much’ as Frank gasped and moaned, the sounds bouncing against the wall and falling uselessly at his feet. The younger man was shameless, writhing desperately against his friend’s hand.

“Gerard, Gee, Gee, I’m-“

“Yeah, I know. You’re shakin’ so hard,’ Gerard laughed into his ear, “Lemme see, yeah? Fuck up our friendship for good, baby, I’m _begging_ you to.”

Gerard’s voice was like liquid sin pouring over Frank’s shoulder, and the guitarist was only too eager to give in. His hips stuttered forward sharply as he finished, a gasp of a cry tearing from his lips as his face contorted in pure pleasure.

The moment grew, crashed and ebbed, and when the pleasure was swept away, Gerard was still there, a firm arm curled around Frank’s waist, warm lips at his ear, whispering “good boy, good boy, thank you, I got you.” Frank let himself go pliant in his friend’s arms – this was the most secure Gerard had ever made him feel, and he was determined to make it last.

*

It was 2:15am and neither of them had said a word in an hour. They’d showered – separately – and were now curled up with the blankets from their bunks, sat on the sofa, cradling cups of coffee to try and get warm. After the spikes of pleasure had melted away, the two men had become sharply aware of how _cold_ they were, and had shuffled inside to unthaw.

“Hey Gee –“ Frank began, voice hoarse. He blushed as he remembered the reason _why_ his voice was so rough – and didn’t miss the faint smirk on Gerard’s lips as he realised it too.

“Mm?”

“You were joking, right? When you said our friendship was ruined? We’re gonna be okay, aren’t we?”   
Frank hated how insecure he sounded, but he had to know how to proceed. Gerard smiled, nodding reassuringly.

“I wasn’t serious. But… we have to be tactful, okay? Try and be sort of subtle.” He furrowed his brows in thought as he took another sip of his drink, “try not to draw too much attention to the fact we’re fucking.”

Frank sat up too fast, a grin splitting his face even as copper-coloured coffee splashed onto his pyjama bottoms.

“We’re fucking? Is that what we’re doing?” he asked excitedly. Gerard sighed, leaning over and grabbing Frank’s jaw. He pressed a firm kiss to his lips, shaking his head with an amused grin as he pulled back. Frank’s eyes were wide as he watched Gerard stand, gathering his blanket in his arms. 

“Goodnight, Frank,” he said pointedly, turning away from him.

Despite his cool demeanor, though, Gerard still swung his hips as he walked away, secure in the knowledge that Frank was practically drooling as he watched him, desire growing with each step. Just before he disappeared into his bunk, Gerard turned, shooting Frank a seductive wink over his shoulder.

Regardless of who had been proven the best prankster, Frank knew in that moment, he had undoubtedly won the war.


End file.
